


Crisis

by dovelette



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2014 Winter Olympics, 21st Century, APH Russia - Freeform, APH Ukraine, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Seduction, Attempted Sexual Assault, Betrayal, Big Brothers, Bittersweet, Blood, Blow Jobs, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brother/Sister Incest, Captured, Catherine - Freeform, Cold, Cold Weather, Come Marking, Crimean Crisis, Crimean War, Crisis, Cultural Differences, Cultural References, Culture, Destruction, Diplomacy, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dry Humping, Dry Sex, Eastern Europe, Europe, European history, F/M, Fear, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Fingering, First Time Blow Jobs, Flowers, Fondling, Forced, Forced Eye Contact, Forced Orgasm, Foreign Language, Frottage, Historical, Historical Accuracy, Historical Hetalia, Historical Metaphors, Historical References, History, Humiliation, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Incest, Incest, Intimidation, Invasion, Ivan - Freeform, Ivan Braginsky - Freeform, Katherina, Katyusha, Language Kink, Languages, Languages and Linguistics, Manipulation, Master/Servant, Mild Blood, Military, Military Uniforms, Modern Era, Neck Kissing, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Touching, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Pain, Persuasion - Freeform, Political, Political Alliances, Political Expediency, Politics, Protective Siblings, Rape/Non-con Elements, Ratings: R, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rough Kissing, Russia, Russia/Ukraine, Russian, Rutting, Seduction, Sexual Assault, Sexual Tension, Shame, Shyness, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Submission, Threats, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Ukraine - Freeform, Vaginal Fingering, Victim - Freeform, Violence, War, War Crimes, Winter, Winter Olympics, Yekaterina, annexation, kiss, threat, weak, Русский | Russian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 15:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3655359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovelette/pseuds/dovelette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The annexation of Crimea has vaulted Ukraine into a state of emergency as riots commence throughout her beloved capitol. The instigator appears a midst smoke, intent to absorb his darling sister into the Motherland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> To my understanding, this depiction of APH’s Russia and Ukraine reflects some of the basic concepts stirring within the current Crimean Crisis that occurred when Russian forces mobilized, successfully annexed the Crimean peninsula and proceeded to invade Ukraine in 2014.
> 
> I worked extremely hard to make this fic as historically accurate as possible. The images of Kiev’s Independence Square are significantly impressive and shocking; I would encourage all my readers to briefly look up images/research into this modern crisis so that you’ll be more informed and aware of Russian’s expansionist agenda and how this alters global politics. If this material or setting is disturbing or too sensitive to you, please refrain from reading.
> 
> For those of you interested, please carry on. I look forward to your thoughts!
> 
> **Disclaimer:**  
>  *If you are Russian, please do not think that this is in any way or form criticizing you as a people group but rather, view it as a fictional assessment of political events through the eyes of an admirer of history and the APH characters which lend themselves to unique circumstances.
> 
> **Copyright:**  
>  Hetalia: Axis Powers © Hidekaz Himaruya and produced by Gentosha and Tokyopop. I do not claim copyright or ownership of the characters, show-related content nor am I profiting in anyway.

 

A ruckus stormed through the abused city of Kiev as Russian invasion forces rumbled past formerly defended bridges. Artillery fire could be heard clamoring in the distance, the shrill neighing of rider-less horses ricocheting throughout the desolate Maidan Nezalezhnosti square as the beasts of burden trotted frantically for an escape from the carnage.

Blue and gold banners drooped across charred mounds, the figures of collapsed officers and citizens rebellious to the traditional legal structure of Ukraine littered Independence Square. A lone woman wandered stiffly through rubble, a sigh merged with painful breathing, as though charcoal and chemical fumes had managed to flounder into her lungs. Heartbroken, dirtied strands of her short flaxen hair rattled under a beige military hat in the bitter wind as opaque irises worriedly scanned the rubble. Stumbling across a soldier bearing her nation’s markings, Ukraine shifted into a crouch, examining the boy slumped on the cobblestone, the light gone from his youthful face. Solemnly, a prayer whisked unto heaven on behalf of his soul, the tender-hearted woman praying that his sacrifice was not in vain.

Mourning the loss of his defense and sacrificial devotion, the sign of the cross petered over the breast of her military uniform, the starch fabric a rough hallmark to the days of yore when her bare feet graced the pastures of the Beskyds of the Carpathian Mountains. While lost in solitude, the devout individual’s transfixion upon the spiritual realm disarmed her to the silent approach of a newcomer. The man trenched in a navy coat stood contemplatively across the grand median of the central square, admiring the Independency Column topped by Archangel Mikhail, the supposed patron of Kiev. The guardian’s stone visage remained resolute despite the horrors witnessed far below as he stood aloft, still presenting the golden ivy laurel into the frosting air – an act which seemed to denote a sense of irony as his wings folded against the winter and the rage of diplomatic warfare.

A burgundy scarf wrapped over the observer’s prominent nose and tucked neatly into the Ushanka winter hat warming his ears, the muffler effectively halting the stream of breath from rising past his lips. The quite crunch of boots atop freshly falling snow momentarily sounded as he came upon the dour scene of a ruined country grieving the destruction of her capital.

Hailing his distant kin, the man noticed how her frame immediately stiffened as she pulled back, Ukraine’s posture unsure and nervous. Feeling the blood pounding in her veins, Katherine doggedly greeted her brother with a slight not, tightening the clasps of her jacket as a distraction from the violet irises creasing upwards while that trademark smile widened. She knew better than to assume his flashing mouth boasted sincerity.

“Ivan,” She murmured coolly, fists clenching within their leather gloves as he drew near.

“Tsk, that is no way to greet your brother, Yekaterina.” His condescending nature caused her to purse her lips in annoyance. Simultaneously she matched his footfalls, warily studying the position of those large hands upon that favored crowbar of his as he advanced,

“Why have you come?

“Can I not visit you every now and again? After all, Kiev is such a glorious city, no?” Nodding, Ukraine ruefully glanced down in an attempt to limit the bitterness seeping from her tone,

“Truly, Kiev was glorious. To her beauty none could compare…that is before your forces set foot upon my land. Now, she lays in ash. You bring destruction wherever you go…I dare to think you enjoy it.” At this, her lashes flickered upward to gauge his reaction to the biting words. Surprisingly, her sibling broke into a bellowing chuckle,

“Da, I came to admire my handiwork. Coming across you in this abandoned square was simply a fateful reward.” The hollow sound dissipated as he stepped forward, the lithe bulk now towering over her frame.

“I have come with word that fighting has renewed between your countrymen which favor my position and those loyal government troops of yours, scraggly though they may be. As I’m sure you know, clashes occur daily around Debaltseve - the railway hub which is most strategic to my endeavors. I would press upon you to cease all hostilities. After all, this crisis has already claimed more than five thousand innocent lives, those who were once looking to you as their protector and salvation. What a disappointment. The dead lie scattered about you now. Katerina, it is hopeless to continue. Soon the rebel forces shall join my guard in the stronghold of Donetsk from where we will cut off key supply roads. Starvation is imminent. Millions have been forced to flee; I’m sure you’d rather see them return to their days of peace and pleasantry instead of suffering continual displacement, especially as winter is upon us.” Internally glimpsing masses shivering in the cold, calling out to her in desperation, their voices clamoring for relief caused Ukraine to shudder at the notion. However the woman was determined to resist his unlawful sanctions,

"As that president of the Americas has said, the ‘borders of Europe cannot be redrawn at the barrel of a gun." A noble phrase tenaciously spoken, albeit one to which Ivan laughed outright,

"Hah! You childish girl - why have you placed your hopes in deterring me by the shield of Europe and that self-obsessed nation across the sea? My loathed enemy cannot keep me at bay forever, you know. Da, his interference between you and I only makes me hunger for you all the more." Fed up with his egotistical rant, Katherine turned to leave, marching a few paces before she felt a warm presence grasp about her wrist,

“You remind me of Tabaka." In confusion she paused to ask,

"The Georgian dish?" He nodded sagely, still not letting go while chortling in a nonchalant manner,

"But of course. You are similar to a fowl primped for a hammer to bludgeon flat.” Thin eyebrows crossed at this disturbing analogy and yet she was intrigued by the gruesome detail in which Ivan intended to intimidate the hapless fowl as well as the one trapped within his arms,

“First, I would split the sternum and of course I must not forget to set a brick atop, otherwise you would not emerge like the tender, pulverized flesh of the chicken I so dearly love to eat. See, your skin here is begging for my sickle to fly." As he palmed the bare skin of her wrist shrouded by lace, her face crumpled into a mask of aghast horror at his indication which she perceived to be a referral to cannibalism. A deep belly laugh emerged from the towering figure upon that realization. With a free hand he wiped at eyes full of mirth which caused her to irritatedly click her tongue,

"I'm going to dismiss your malicious allegory to that ancient recipe as a part of your dark humor and leave it at that. You ought to work on more relatable content if you were hoping I'd laugh." She then turned away yet found herself unmovable,

"Unhand me Ivan.” 

As he did not so much as flinch, she scanned his eyes, the glimmer of humor apparent but shrouding something darker. Sensing something amiss and unnerved by the rolling intensity, Ukraine became alarmed, practically barking the order,

“I said to unhand me. Do so!” Appearing amused due to her frustration, the tall Russian man leaned forward to a point where the strands of his golden tinged bangs mingled with her milky strands,

“Only if you will exert your strength to the point where it would cause me to refrain.” The jab directed toward her current weakness in the face of his unexpected and heavily armed raids across her sovereign borders made the blonde seethe. Despite anger tearing through the bosom of her tan military coat, Ukraine did not even chance any form of exertion against him for they both knew quite well that an effort on her behalf would result in nothing but humiliation. Yet she remained resilient and decidedly stared her brother down. After a few unsteady moments, his grip surprisingly loosened to allow her to wretch her limb from his hold and stalk away in indignation.

“Alfred's sanctions matter not,” An accented baritone called out after her retreat, “For after all, the West is not as mighty as it once was. Ah the Roman Empire comes to mind…America has overstretched himself, as the Asiatic nations can attest. This time I shall succeed as that frustrating дурак ("Imbecile") crumbles beneath my fury. You would do well not to sidle up to that whorish man.”

“You’re just sore about Sochi.” Ukraine snidely retorted, gleeful whereupon she spied a glimmer of rage course through otherwise blank orbs. After brief contemplation, Ivan’s long nose twitched in disgust, the proud being recalling how the United States and his colleagues publically humiliated him through the media due to his opposition to their domestic reformative agenda. The very thought renewed contempt, slighted emotions which had been left simmering as Ivan painstakingly attempted to put personalized ire behind a cool front. Though, regardless of his best efforts, the fact that members of the European Union (led by that obnoxious fool Arthur apparently swept away by the influence of his former colony) would dare attack in such a manner still baffled the host of 2014’s winter Olympic Games. The disgrace tempted his tightly wound constraints to burst as Russia momentarily schemed of ways in which to retaliate.

Yet, memories of Sochi brought with it the stench of those horrid McDonald’s fries - soggy potato strips which had littered the stadium for weeks after the international event – that sent a tremor through his stomach. The nauseous sensation was almost as disturbing as one of America’s films China had persuaded him to view during a visitation; an under-budgeted action flick sporting overtly sexualized women who seemed to bathe in the glorified symbol of Western manhood – the cowboy; a parallel Russia found to be typically droll of that embryonic hero. All of this, including the crass humor and unintelligent dialogue, had inspired Ivan to vow that he would never visit the golden coast of California, unless his expansionist plans required such an unseemly gesture. Brought out of his reverie by a shrill female laugh caused by the scowl he currently donned, Russia contemplated turning his anger onto the nearest target. Tactfully selecting not to allow Katerina’s taunt to hamper his composure, Russia instead focused on a diplomatic response,

“Sochi stands as a testament to our differences. His ilk belongs on that side of the ocean, and you on mine. Besides, the European coalition has broken pledges not to expand NATO. They have forced nations to choose between the East and West. Estonia and Latvia cringe at the thought of leaving my side. I know this to be true despite their protests.” Bulky arms crossed into a fold as he nodded appreciatively at the thought of those timid young countries standing astride his empire. Confident once more in his mission, Ivan entreated his sister to partake in the majestic outpouring of his generosity by explaining the steadfast resolution determined by the Diet of Russia’s Imperial court,

“Lithuania even cowers in submission yet is lead astray by false promises whispered by that foul capitalistic tongue. I will not stand for it. Nothing shall stand in my way to possess the Baltics and the crown jewel laying here within my grasp." At this, gloved palms gently fell onto her shoulders. Tilting her head, Ukraine seriously pressed for his internal thoughts,

“Do you not realize that they are mongering against you due to your brutality?”

“Da, I am aware.  But one must employ strength to maintain respect.” Her lips opened to object yet he continued hurriedly, “The brothers matter not at the moment. My main foes are the bearers of democracy. It is not surprising that the arrogant West desires to sanction and block trade to my economic zones, but not to fret Ukraine, дорогой ("darling"). I have responded in kind.” Ivan then squeezed her shoulder blades and smiled,

“I hear they have even criticized me for violating your sovereignty. Would that be true?”

“How else do you perceive such an invasion and armament supply against me?” Ukraine snapped as her eyes rotated downward, frustrated by the sly antics being deployed to cover for his obvious involvement in the Crimean Crisis instigated in early February of the past year. The dawn of 2014 seemed so distant and unfamiliar, a time apart from the precarious conflict mounting between separatist forces holding out in Donetsk and Lugansk against their very own government. Attempting to reason with Ivan’s sentimental tendencies and their former comradery, Ukraine sweetly sought rational conciliation,

“Cтарший брат ("Brother"), I ask again, would you please desist?” Incredulous due to her innocent request, Russia broke into a tirade, gripping her closer to his chest, his usually subdued, sleepy eyes now bright and ferocious,

“Euromaidan and the February Revolutions were only the beginning. Soon I shall annex all that you are and we will become one as it always ought to have been. After all, I am your господин ("master").” Gazing into her eyes, Ivan leaned forward to plant a kiss to her forehead as gentle as a dove’s wingtip, “This is where my imperial crown will come to rest.” Shaking her head, Ukraine’s hands shot up to his chest to create more space between them,

“будь ласка, припиніть, p-please stop.” Seeing her distressed face instilled an irrevocable and consuming tenderness which he obediently followed by cupping her chin. Searching her eyes for what he knew not, Ivan’s gloves outlined the contours of soft feminine cheeks tarnished by harsh weather and untimely warfare,

“Если только святые допускается в русском ("If only the saints allowed"), but I cannot.” The gruff whisper fell into her eardrums as the man inhaled the scent of her hair. Nostrils pressed into the crevice below an earlobe cherished the sweet lingering of floral oils which mingled with the burning stench of asphalt and tar.

“Ah Katyusha, you remind me of summer. Once this winter breaks, we shall step together into a most glorious field. There I will pick for you a bouquet, a mantle to your beauty and a symbol of your worth to me. Will you not then be pleased?”

“Ivan, I won’t, I don’t want-” Groaning against her objections, he muffled her protests with a finger to cerise lips as his breath ghosted along the expanse of her nape. Escaping the traditional braid it was pulled within, traces of wispy hair danced along with his murmuring lips and the air buffeting about the open square.

“How I delight in you, немного девичья ("little maiden").” Breathing heavily her name in a pained voice before securing his mouth over the one open in dissent, Ivan deeply sealed his resolution over and over again with a kiss so fierce it stifled breath.


End file.
